


My Angel Is the Centerfold

by honeysucklepink



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Sex with other characters, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysucklepink/pseuds/honeysucklepink
Summary: An old flame re-enters Kurt's fantasies in a most unexpected way. AU after "Glease."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this Tumblr picture and post: http://aavigueras.tumblr.com/post/156061459042/sunshineoptimismandangels-hkvoyage
> 
> And y'all know me by now; I swipe song titles for fic titles: J. Geils Band "Centerfold" https://youtu.be/BqDjMZKf-wg

 

"Rachel! I'm home!"

Hearing no response, Kurt grumbled to himself in annoyance as he tried to shift his multiple items from arms to hands--a portfolio from Vogue, his school bag, a full grocery tote, and the mail--while wrestling with the loft's sliding door. He finally gave up and dumped most of the load to the floor, finally able to close and latch the door shut. After tossing the mail to the coffee table, he put away the almond milk, kombucha, and produce in the fridge, and refilled the coffee canister with a new fresh batch of dark roast. Then he retrieved the portfolio and book bag from where they had landed and deposited them back in his room. With the items put away, he could finally unlace his boots, relax on the sofa, and check the day's mail. As he reached for the pile, he noticed a note:

 _Will be at rehearsal late, probably past midnight--don't wait up! Love Rachel_ ⭐

 _“_ Rachel and her gold stars,” he laughed. Noting he had the loft to himself for the evening, he flipped through the contents--the water bill, a couple of solicitations from charities, a reminder to renew his subscription to _Interview_ , the latest Fossil catalog, and...oh, _boy_.

The new issue of _Blue_ arrived. He only knew this for the opaque black plastic wrapper with the vague return address, the kind of packaging that is supposed to ensure discretion but _come on, the postman knows just what's in those types of packages, he subscribes to Playboy and they do the same thing._

Kurt had long abandoned his "baby penguin" phase from high school. He was an attractive gay man in his twenties, living in New York, and he carried himself as such. He hadn't given up on romance, but until Mr. Right came along, Mr. Right-Now would do. Not that it was all hook-ups; he'd had a couple of boyfriends in college. First was the British show choir lead; it was a fun rebound but never meant to last, especially after Adam took a gig at the West End shortly after graduating NYADA. Then there was the glam rocker from New Jersey he had started a band with. Elliot had brought out a whole new side to him but ultimately the friendship outlasted the sex _and_ the band. He had been the one to introduce Kurt to a little kinkier side of himself, more creative toys, and more artistic porn than the Cocky Boys and Frat Boi Physicals he had found online.

The subscription to _Blue_ had been a gift, and Kurt was impressed enough with it that he continued to subscribe on his own. This wasn't the type of porn you cringed at, or worried about tattoos or what mothers would think. And it wasn't the kind you just hurried off to the bathroom and flipped through while spanking it to guys that looked like Jersey Shore rejects or underage-looking (God he _hoped_ they only _looked_ underage) twinks. It was actually nice enough you could leave it on the coffee table without too much shame, unless of course someone looked inside the pages. It really could be for anyone who appreciated the aesthetic of the male form. Like the muscle mags gifted to a young gay by a wise Miss Rhodes, but more modern. This was the kind of porn you savored like wine, or chocolate, or an hour long massage.

He carefully removed the plastic wrapper, which he put to the side, and turned to a random page.

Kurt's jaw dropped.

The torso was more muscled, but the tousled curls, the jawline, the brows, those incredibly long, dark lashes, the small, pert nipples, were all familiar to him. Kurt found his mind hurtling back in time and space to a more innocent past...one of tentative kisses, soft brushing of hands, glances in a crowded hallway, a busy choir room. Then the more purposeful touches... the toes-sliding-on-ankles under coffee house tables, the butt-pats in the auditorium...the deliberate acts in bedrooms and back seats... pulls, rubs, strokes, bites, licks, tastes...fullness and tightness and _need_ …

He dropped the magazine to the floor, but despite the flood of memories and shock, Kurt's cock was hard already.

He picked it back up, partly so the pages wouldn't crease, but also out of curiosity and a compulsion to either confirm or deny that what he was seeing was just a coincidence, a case of "everyone has a twin out there," maybe even some crack in the multiverse. He turned to the next page; the two page spread showed a lot fewer bubbles...and a lot more face.

Well, shit. Blaine Anderson had grown up.

The last time Kurt had spoken to Blaine in person was one of the saddest of his life. The night he and Rachel had gone back to Lima, to see their exes under the guise of watching the school play and being supportive of the New Directions. He watched Blaine as the Teen Angel walk down the staircase, dreamy as ever, crooning to a pink-haired Sugar Motta to _"go back to high school..."_

And that's when it hit Kurt what a mistake it had been to return.

That had been years ago, and he had only seen Blaine a couple of times since then; at Will and Emma's aborted wedding (he was happy to hear they had finally gotten hitched in albeit a much smaller ceremony), and then at Finn's funeral. After Finn died, it was too hard to go back to Lima; even Burt and Carole understood if not empathized, choosing to visit Kurt in New York on holidays instead.

He couldn't help but wonder what exactly happened to Blaine. From what he had gathered based on the postings of mutual Facebook friends, he had transferred back to Dalton, then gone to UCLA and was presumably living with his brother Cooper. Los Angeles was a much warmer part of the country, and he guessed there was a lot more pressure to have a "bod," to workout and have washboard abs. Heck even Chris Pratt had to get rid of his Andy Dwyer softness to do that Marvel movie. He wondered if Blaine had melted away that soft belly of his, which made Kurt remember how he loved to kiss that softness right below his belly button, nuzzle it as he travelled to Blaine's hardening cock, rest his head there after swallowing Blaine's cum. Still, could this even be _his_ Blaine?

No. Even if it was Blaine, he was no longer _his_ , and hadn't been for quite some time.

He slowly turned the pages and savored the rest of the layout, concurrently worried and turned on as the photos were more explicit. There were two in profile where Blaine (or the model-who-looked-exactly-like-Blaine) had his cock in his hand, stroked to full hardness; the angles emphasized the pronounced curvature of his ass. His brows were furrowed in tense concentration in the first; in the other his head was thrown back, jaw slackened. A smaller picture was a close up of his cock, somewhat softer, unmistakeable cum mingled with the soap bubbles. The last photo stopped Kurt in his tracks. It was a close-up of Blaine's face, his thumb coated in cum, his tongue protruding just enough through a smirk, about to taste…

Kurt flung the magazine to the table. He went into the bathroom and began to draw a bath; as steam filled the room, he grabbed a bottle of bubble bath and poured a generous amount in with the running tap. While the tub filled, he went back to his room, stripped naked, and put on a short robe. He reached into the back of his nightstand drawer, and pulled out his favorite vibrator. Narrow, but flared at the base and best of all, completely waterproof.

He returned to the bathroom just in time to turn off the water before the bubbles could spill over the sides. Kurt removed his robe and hung it on a hook next to the sink; he took one step into the bath, hissed a little at the temperature until he could adjust, and then slowly sank the rest of his body into the hot, foamy water, a few stray bubbles escaping to the bath mat.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back and felt the bubbles rise up and tickle his chin and ears. Kurt let his hands stroke lazily along his body, on his thighs and hips, over his ribs; each time his fingers brushed against his nipples, he would sigh as they hardened a little more. As his arousal grew, his touches became more deliberate, and his mind drifted. Behind his eyelids, he imagined the Blaine that he saw in the magazine spread coming alive. It wasn't very hard to do, after all; while his body may have grown and changed, he still had the same warm eyes, plump lips, soft curls. In Kurt's mind, the Blaine on flat pages slowly transformed into three-dimension.

Kurt's knees rose up, and his fingers reached down between his spread legs. He used one hand to stroke his cock, while the other found its way to his hole, circling gently at first, then with more pressure. The water was slick with soap and oils, and it wasn't difficult to slip the tip of his index finger in. He pumped in and out slowly, going deeper and deeper each time, moans barely escaping his throat. He added another finger; without actual lube it was a little more difficult, but doable, and he relished the temporary burn. Stroking his cock harder eased the burn, and he could feel his balls tightening. Deciding he was stretched enough for his slim vibe, he picked up the toy and slipped it under the water. It went in easier than he thought it would; once it was all the way in and the base was snug against his cheeks, he turned it on.

The jolt that went through him was incredible. He shifted in the tub so that it would vibrate against his prostate just right, and as he did so the water sloshed about. All the while, he continued to pump his cock rhythmically, and let his free hand drift back to his chest, stroking against that place on his neck, just under his left ear…

He remembered Blaine finding that spot, during one of their early makeout sessions. It was in the “North of the Equator” days, when they were still testing their limits, what turned them on, what didn’t do much. Kurt discovered quickly that being kissed there caused all the blood in his body to rush straight to his dick. Blaine, being on top of him at the time, realized it at about the same moment. That first time he jumped back, his tongue spilling apologies. But as they became more comfortable with each other, apologies were no longer necessary.

It was that sense-memory that brought the magazine-version-Blaine to life in Kurt’s mind. That Blaine still knew what turned Kurt on, and perhaps had learned some new tricks. Kurt found that the idea that Blaine had probably had sex with others after they broke up, had other relationships, no longer bothered him. The Blaine he felt now was more experienced, a little rougher, leaner, scruffier. The gel was gone, the curls were damp and dripping, the hands wrapped around Kurt’s cock were no longer his but Blaine’s. Blaine’s voice was probably a little deeper too now, a little road-weary, but just as seductive, whispering in Kurt’s ear as the pressure in his balls built up, his cock beginning to throb in his fist, the vibrations in his ass stuttering to an overwhelming climax. He imagined Blaine raising a thumb to his lips, like in the photo, but covered in his pre-cum, and that toppled him over the edge. He came spilling over his hand into the soapy water, his moans turned to shouts, and the tepid bathwater sloshed over the rim of the tub as his body convulsed with the power of his orgasm.

After a few moments of catching his breath, he turned off the vibrator and slid it out of his ass. He stepped out of the tub and began to drain the water, but rather than drying himself off right away, he sat on the wet bath mat, pulled his knees up to his chin, and shivered. It wasn’t just the chill; it was the realization of what he’d done, and what, if it was in fact _him_ in the magazine, _Blaine_ had done.

Was this what Blaine was now? Was he a porn star, or was the magazine a one-time thing? Not that there was anything wrong with it, but he wondered if Blaine was still pursuing acting, or music, or if he had given up? Would he, _could_ he ever try teaching now, knowing some concerned parent or disgruntled kid could whip this out?

One thing he knew was he could no longer ignore it. He dried off, went to Facebook, opened his “unfollow” list, and found Blaine’s name.

He clicked “follow.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine hears from Kurt and recalls his adventure in erotica.

_Message from Kurt Hummel: “Hi.”_

Blaine stared at his phone. He had opened his Facebook message app and had never expected to see a message from Kurt. It had been three years since they had actually spoken, and nearly two when they had even last seen each other - across the chapel in a crowded funeral home. He wondered what had even prompted that single word, that attempt to reach out.

Blaine had eventually moved on from the break-up, and Sam and the New Directions had made a great effort to cheer him up and show him the good person they believed him to be, and that deep down he knew was there. He agreed that transferring at that time would have been a terrible idea. But then the steroid scandal broke out, Hunter was expelled, the Warblers were rudderless, and Sebastian was clueless as to how to steer the team back to respectability. Blaine decided that as much as he loved the New Directions, they would be fine with Finn at the reins, with Mr. Schue still guiding them in spirit, and the new kids taking initiative. His first family needed him now.

He reconnected with his old Warbler pals; Trent was thrilled to have him back, and Nick and Jeff didn’t even bother to hide that their relationship had gone far beyond “just being best bro-dudes who hooked up on occasion.” Blaine and the older Warblers finally got the team back on track, and though their competition season was over, they were able to get their suspension lifted.

Meanwhile Blaine was _so busy_. In addition to leading the Warblers again, he was catching up with the demands of Dalton’s advanced classes, hoping to graduate in time, and applying to colleges. Stanford, Berkeley, UCLA...and not a New York school in the bunch. He figured he had just as much of a shot in entertainment getting a degree on the West Coast as the East, and he’d be close to Cooper. Blaine barely had time to think about Kurt (who had posted a picture on his Facebook being very snuggly with some blonde guy in a beanie and scarf and _no he wasn’t upset he was fine stop bringing it up okay Tina?_ ), or really _any_ guys. He could have a social and love life once he was done with high school and off to California; his new, not-in-the-same-city-as-Kurt plan.

But he wasn’t too busy to go to McKinley’s graduation to show support and see Artie and Sam off to New York. He didn’t ask them to say hi to Kurt for him.

And he wasn’t too busy to attend the end-of-year Warblers kegger at Sebastian’s house, or to let Sebastian give him a sloppy and frankly unimpressive blowjob in the walk-in pantry. He got off but it was nothing to write home about, and when he reached down to return the favor, (really) Lil’ Sebastian had already passed the finish line. The summer was uneventful and soon he was on a plane to L.A. and a new life, his things being delivered in several UPS packages.

Los Angeles was BIG. Not big like New York...New York was all tall buildings, literally scraping the sky, people on top of people in multiple levels of highrises, crammed together in buses and subway cars and sidewalks. But L.A. was _spread-out_ big. More space between people, but those spaces were filled with smog and the people were in bubbles of their own making...their cars, their phones, their cliques. Also, he discovered, it was _expensive_. Even though he was staying with Cooper and his scholarship covered out-of-state tuition, between food, car maintenance, and incidentals, expenses piled up. When the first semester started and he saw what they charged for textbooks he was mortified; he even had to sell some of his favorite Brooks Brothers bow ties on eBay.

Another thing about L.A.? It was _warm_ , like _all the time_. There were barely any opportunities to cover up holiday pounds or a Freshman 15 in fall and winter layers like in Ohio or New York (and damn it that just reminded him of Kurt). Even without his body insecurities there was so much pressure to constantly look “good” in Hollywood. Even Cooper told him “I love you just the way you are squirt, but if you want to make it in this town you’ve got to put down the Animal-Style In-N-Out fries and get rid of that midwestern pudge.”

Deciding it was time for a little makeover, he and Cooper purged the kitchen, tossing out all the processed junk and stocking the freezer with frozen vegetables, fish, and chicken. Blaine started running every morning; when he lost the pudge but hit a plateau, Cooper hooked him up with his trainer (and in the process, Blaine _hooked up_ with the trainer). Between the working out and the L.A. heat, Blaine’s gel eventually gave up any hope of holding his strands together, so he saved it for going out and special occasions.

Eating healthy, however, was still expensive, and so was the gym, and soon Blaine was looking at another textbook bill for the spring semester wondering how the hell he was going to keep up. One day, after a particularly sweaty hot yoga class, he noticed a guy coming towards him. He was cute, dark-skinned with green eyes, and Blaine had caught him stealing glances at him during firefly pose. His name was Derek, he was a photographer, and he asked Blaine if he’d ever modeled before?

At first Blaine thought it was just a line. As he talked to Derek more he found out that no, he was a legit photographer. He was trying to make his name in the industry with landscapes, editorials, and portraits; however, he admitted, soft erotica and headshots helped pay the bills. Blaine realized he needed a new batch of headshots to match his new body. They exchanged numbers and made plans.

He met Derek a few days later at his West Hollywood apartment. As requested he came showered with no product in his hair, unshaven, and wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans with a few favorite outfits (including a few bow ties he hadn’t been able to part with) in his bag. Derek used a little pomade to tame his curls and make them shine, then took him out to the patio into the natural light. Blaine felt comfortable around Derek, able to follow his directions as he posed. After a round of the casual shots, Derek had Blaine go back inside and shave, then change into one of his polos and bow ties for another set, this time in the kitchen. For the last shots, Blaine slicked his hair back into a classic Hollywood leading man/Rat Pack style, a perfect compliment to the slim-cut suit and tie he brought.

“Wow,” Derek whistled as he came into the bedroom. “You clean up sharp. You’re just missing an old-school mic and a scotch on the rocks.”

“Thanks,” Blaine said.

“Actually, now that I think about it...hold on.” Derek left the room for a minute, then came back with a rocks glass containing two ice cubes and an amber liquid. “It’s iced tea...best I could come up with. Only liquor I have in the place is clear, wouldn’t look right.”

Blaine took the glass and posed for a few shots with it, then set it down on the dresser, still in view of Derek’s lens.

“Tell you what…” Derek began, then stopping himself. “Okay, before I suggest this I want to swear I’m not trying to pull a Coco-from-Fame thing, or trying to seduce you or anything like that.”

“Um...okay?”

“I want you to loosen your tie and take off your jacket. Slowly so I can get some shots of it. I mean, is that okay?”

“Sure, I think I know the kind of look you’re talking about.” Blaine did as he was asked, imagining it was late at night or early in the morning, perhaps coming in from an all-nighter with Sammy, Deano, and Frank. He slipped the jacket from his shoulders, folded it once and draped it on the bed; afterward he unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and pulled his tie loose from the knot, letting it hang from his collar. He gave a blue-eyed (okay, golden-eyed) soul smoulder to the mirror, indirectly giving bedroom eyes to Derek in the process. He noticed the shutter clicks had slowed. He turned around and Derek had lowered his camera. His arm was slack to his side, and he stared at Blaine like a starving man. When he moved toward Blaine, Blaine didn’t want to run away. He felt... _powerful_.

Derek was inches from his lips. He smelled like chocolate and spice and sweat. “You know how I said I’m not trying to seduce you?”

“Yeah?” Blaine swallowed.

“Are you sure you’re not trying to seduce me?”

Blaine hadn’t been sure. Not until he surged into Derek’s space and closed the distance with a heated kiss.

***

The next morning, Blaine woke up naked in a strange bed in a only-recently familiar room, to the sound of a camera shutter. *click*.

“Mmmm...morning,” he said, stretching like a cat.

“Morning,” Derek said, his camera raised back up to his face. *click*

“What are you doing?” Blaine asked, little concern in his voice.

“Don’t worry, these are just for me.” *click* “You’re just so beautiful right now.” *click*

Blaine could say the same of Derek, his lithe, nude body straddled over Blaine’s, crumpled sheets underneath.

“Let me see,” Blaine said. Derek passed the camera down, and Blaine sat up to look at the preview screen. “Oh...wow, these are just...Derek these are amazing! You made me look…”

“Sexy? It’s cause you are, Blaine,” he said as he bent down to kiss him.

Blaine blushed. “No, I’m serious you are an amazing photographer, Derek.”

“It’s nothing without an amazing subject.” He picked the camera back up from Blaine. *click*

Blaine started thinking. “Derek,” he asked. “You said you do...other photography, right? You know, like...not porn or anything, but erotica?”

“Yeah, it’s actually pretty lucrative,” Derek said. “Plus when it’s done right it’s just beautiful art. Why?”

Blaine ignored the lump in his throat. “So how much do those models make?”

***

With Blaine’s permission, Derek sent a few of the candids he took that morning plus one of the scruffy headshot pictures to an editor friend of his, who immediately emailed him back saying “How soon can you set up a shoot?” The next weekend Blaine found himself in a warehouse loft set up as a bustling shoot with various production, technical, and editorial staff. He quickly spotted Derek, who met his eyes right away and came to him.

“Blaine, hey!” he said, kissing him on the lips. “You’re right on time.”

“I wanted to make a good impression,” Blaine said. “So, what do I do first?”

“Go ahead to the dressing area, get undressed including underwear, but then put on the silk robe Kim has for you,” nodding over to a concealed area. “Then we’ll have hair and makeup take care of you. That will be enough time for any skin creases from your clothes to go away.”

Blaine went to the dressing area and stripped. As he tied the sash of the robe around his waist, he looked in the mirror and stopped. “Am I really doing this?” he whispered to himself. “Yes. Yes, I am doing this. And it’s not like I’m doing hardcore porn or anything. This is _erotic art._ This is _artistic_.” He nodded, sure of himself.

“And textbooks aren’t getting any cheaper,” he added.

After hair and makeup finished with him he was led to a corner of the loft. A shower and bath were set near a window, frosted so it let in light but blocked anyone from seeing more. The tub was already filled and there were bubbles _everywhere_. _They must use some special foam for shoots like this_ , he thought.

“Okay Blaine, lose the robe and step into the tub, and then cover yourself with the bubbles. Especially around, well you know,” Derek said.

Blaine _knew_ , of course he did. The bubbles tickled around him, and the water was actually a little colder than he would have liked in a real bubble bath. The chill made his nipples tingle. But this was fantasy...just like the first photo shoot, he was playing a role. He could do this.

Then in a flash of images he remembered another warehouse, from another time. A foam party, young and surrounded by friends, one in particular. One who had tried so hard to be sexy when he really didn’t need to try at all; who lamented being a baby penguin, when he was anything but.

“Blaine?” He heard Derek call his name, pulling him out of the memory, only barely.

“Huh, what? I’m sorry, I…” Blaine started second guessing himself, the shoot, everything. He was sitting naked in a pile of cold bubbles, feeling not like the sexy creature Derek had captured the morning after the headshot day, but like the Warbler only pretending to know what he was doing.

Derek could sense his confidence leaching. “Hey, guys, can you clear out? Go ahead and go to lunch.” Once the last of the crew exited, he went and pulled the door to, then walked back to Blaine. “Okay, tell me what’s up.”

“I…” Blaine didn’t know how to say it without bringing up an old flame. “I mean, I’m sure I want to do the shoot, it’s just...are you sure you want _me_ in this shoot?”

“Blaine,” Derek came up to him and caressed his cheek. “I am _so_ sure. If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have sent those shots to the _Blue_ editors.”

“But am I really, you know, _that_ kind of sexy?”

“God, I wish you could see yourself the way I do, the way a lot of guys do,” Derek said. “It’s like you can’t help how sexy you are. I mean never mind your body, your face, you just have this way about you. And fuck, the way you look when you cum? It’s like there’s this...angelic bliss that washes over you. The way your muscles tighten, your back arches, your face relaxes? There’s _beauty_ in that. It’s documenting the essence and meaning of life itself.”

Blaine smiled and looked down at himself. The body he had worked so hard for, part of the new life he was making. He had created it as much as a song or a dance number. He glanced at Derek, and started to play with the bubbles, rubbing some onto his chest while dragging his other hand down his flank. Derek decided to [crank the music up in the loft](https://youtu.be/MmZexg8sxyk), raised his camera and began to shoot. “Now just close your eyes and imagine, just you in the room, in this tub, no one else. What do you see?”

Blaine shut his eyes and let the music wash over him, the click of the shutter fading to background noise. As he stood on his knees and caressed his body, his mind drifted back to the foam party and the warehouse, but later moments with Kurt filled the gaps, coalescing into a new fantasy. In this one, they were still in the warehouse, but the Warblers and Crawford girls were gone. There was foam all around, more in fact than before, and Kurt approached him...but older, more experienced, filling out the Dalton uniform in a much more tantalizing way. This was the sexy Kurt he saw, the confident man that didn’t have to try so hard.

While Fantasy Kurt began to strip himself and Blaine out of their uniforms, Blaine let his soapy hands drift down his chest, his nipples hard with arousal. He allowed one hand to slide down to his quickly filling cock. The soap bubbles slickened the glide, and as he grew harder the pre-cum that beaded at his slit helped him along. He tugged and stroked, teasing his balls with his other hand, rolling them around with his fingers; a guttural groan escaped his lips as he felt everything tighten.

In his mind, meanwhile, Kurt had undressed them both completely and had Blaine pinned against the scaffolding; on his knees he was licking and tasting Blaine’s cock, playing with his balls at the same time. Blaine could clearly visualize his hands braced on Kurt’s broad shoulders, his eyes looking over Kurt’s bobbing head at his small waist and pert ass. The pressure grew and threatened to explode like a geyser, until finally Fantasy Kurt looked up through his lashes, his blue eyes piercing Blaine’s soul, and his lips stretched, further, further, until they were brushing his pubic hairs at the base and Blaine could practically feel the tip of his cock in the grip of Kurt’s throat. Blaine threw his head back and cried out in exaltation, tears in his eyes and throaty gasps as he came over his fist, cum splashing on his stomach and chest, intermingling with the bubbles. He continued to pump his cock, bracing himself on the edge of the tub with his other hand, until he was soft and oversensitive. Finally spent, he fell back on his ass, leaning back on his palms, catching his breath.

As Blaine was coming down from his orgasm, he heard Derek clear his throat. He had to admit he had almost forgotten he was there. _Oh my God I just did that_ , he thought. _I just jerked off on camera_. He opened his eyes to see Derek, still holding the camera steady, even with a visible, raging hard-on in his jeans. Blaine couldn’t believe how emboldened he felt, even with the memories of Kurt still lingering. He looked straight into the lens, winked, and brought up his thumb, still dripping with cum, to his mouth. Derek took shot after shot as Blaine sucked his thumb between his lips, until Blaine let go with an obscene *pop*. When Derek put down the camera, Blaine pulled him into the bubbles and reached into his pants to finish him off.

***

It was almost a year before the photos were published, and by then he decided that being a full-time erotica model wasn’t for him. It was a fun adventure, and sheepishly he admitted one that would probably follow him forever. He could forget about ever teaching elementary kids, that was for sure. Still, he made more than enough money to pay for his textbooks and extra expenses for the rest of his time at UCLA, and even invested some of the rest. And if they came back to haunt him, well plenty of actors had those types of pictures early in their careers. It was no longer a deal-breaker the way it used to be. As for Derek, they were still friends, and he helped him out with some much tamer shoots. Every once in awhile they would hook up, but nothing serious. Blaine loved sex, but was pretty sure his one chance to have a real, deep, everlasting love had passed him by. He was settled enough with it, in fact, to fly out to New York to visit Sam. So sitting in a Starbucks near Times Square staring at a message from Kurt Hummel was not on his agenda.

Still. _“Hi yourself.”_

_“So, I have to ask you something, and I know this will sound out there, but.”_

There was a long pause.

_“So I get this, um, magazine. Um, it’s called Blue?”_

Blaine closed his eyes and breathed out “...aw, _fuck_.”

_“It’s like high-end erotica? It’s...look, it’s PORN okay? I finally grew up and started getting porn and...well, it’s funny, I mean everyone has a twin, right?”_

Blaine could do one of two things. He could laugh it off, get in some good-natured teasing, say “of course it’s some look-alike, silly!” Or…

He tapped on the phone’s tiny keyboard and pressed send on the message. _“No, Kurt...it’s me alright.”_

_“Oh...um, wow, so you’re doing this now?”_

_Oh my god, he thinks I’m a porn star_ , he thought. _“It was one time, I did the shoot months ago, they just came out.”_

He hit send. Then typed again:

_“This is really awkward.”_

He waited and waited. So Kurt had seen them. God he had seen those pictures and...what did he think of them? Was he disgusted by them? Or was he turned on? And if so was it because he thought it wasn’t Blaine so it was safe? Or because it could be (and it was)? How would he feel if he knew that Blaine was thinking of _him_ when he took those pictures, when he was tugging his cock and imagining Kurt there? Was Kurt still in New York as well?

Another message came, just as Blaine saw Sam coming across the street. _“So last I heard you were at UCLA?”_ Blaine didn’t give himself time to second-guess.

***

A notification pinged on Kurt’s Facebook page. He clicked it open.

_Message from Blaine Anderson: “I’m in New York.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used in the shoot is "Electric Feel" by MGMT.
> 
> This chapter was partially inspired by the story Chris Pratt told Graham Norton about how he got his early headshots: https://youtu.be/7E7aIXg6I9Y?t=2m6s


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam lends an ear and wonders why Blaine isn't at Kurt's already.

Before Kurt could answer Blaine messaged him again: _“Hey, I’m meeting someone but can we talk more? I really want to catch up.”_

He pocketed his phone as Sam came towards his table. “Blaine, dude!” Sam said as he embraced Blaine. “Great to see you! Hey, I’m going to get in line and get my drink; you got yours?”

Blaine’s phone vibrated in his pocket. “Yeah, go ahead, while the line is short.”

Sam got in line (just in time, before a crowd of high school theatre kids came in), and Blaine pulled his phone back out to read the new message:

_Message from Kurt Hummel: “Sure; message me in an hour?”_

Blaine could do that.

_Message from Blaine Anderson: “Okay. Let me send you my number so we can text. Is yours still the same?”_

_Message from Kurt Hummel: “Yep, still is.”_

Sam came back with his drink just as Blaine was texting Kurt back. “So who are you texting with? Got someone special in L.A.?”

“Um, no, actually. Sorry, let me put this down,” Blaine said, placing his phone face down on the table. “I’m here to visit you, not to mess around on my phone.”

“No problem, man,” Sam said as they sat down. “So, how are things in L.A., how’s school? I gotta tell you you look good, man. Have you been working out?”

“Um, yeah, I have, thanks. L.A. is great. I mean it has its pros and cons. The weather’s awesome, though I have to admit sometimes I miss Ohio winters. And it’s expensive, but living with Cooper makes it easier.”

“Tell me about it. New York is so pricey. I mean Artie and I barely get by, but having friends around helps. We have a potluck every week with Kurt and Rachel...ah, but you probably don’t want to hear about that.”

Blaine stuttered, “No, no, it’s fine, you can talk about him, whatever, it’s fine.” He glanced down at the phone.

Sam wasn’t fooled. “Um, expecting a text?”

“No, I’m just...you know, forget about it. Tell me about you...heard from Mercedes lately?”

“Yes, and I will tell you about that later, but right now you’re deflecting. Come on Blaine, what’s going on?”

Blaine huffed. “Fine, fine. I um, got a Facebook message. From Kurt.” 

“Whoa,” Sam said. “You guys haven’t talked in, like, years right?” 

“Not since _Grease_ opening night.” 

“ _Damn_.” Sam whistled. “And he just messaged you out of the blue?” 

 _You have no idea,_ Blaine thought, wincing at the unintentional reference Sam made. “Yeah, pretty much?” 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Nope, you’re lying. Spill.” 

Blaine stomach churned. He debated internally whether to tell Sam the truth. But then again, Sam was an exotic dancer once...he’d understand. “Okay, so there _is_ a reason. But you have to promise not to laugh or judge me or anything, okay?” 

“Dude, I promise, you can tell me anything, no judgement.” 

Blaine told Sam the whole story. 

Five minutes after Blaine finished, Sam was _still_ laughing. “Sam, you said you wouldn’t judge me!” 

“I only promised not to judge, I made no guarantees I wouldn’t laugh!” Sam snorted. He had been laughing so hard and long his eyes were teary and he was gulping for air. “I’m just remembering the shit you gave me junior year.” 

“Yeah, but we made up and became friends. And besides, you never actually _masturbated_ on stage,” Blaine mumbled under his breath. 

“Still,” Sam said, finally calming down. “If I was White Chocolate, what does that make you...Caramel Cheesecake?” 

“Oh _God_ ,” Blaine groaned. “You had to bring up Kurt’s favorite thing. But you’re right. I guess if it was someone else it would be pretty funny.” 

“Speaking of Kurt...so he saw the pictures? Like, all of them?” 

“I don’t know if he saw _all_ of them but I guess he saw enough? I didn’t get a chance to fully explain it to him before you came in.” 

“Hey, you don’t think he...you know?” Sam made a subtle motion with his fist. 

“ _Sam_! That’s none of your business, I’m pretty sure Kurt would kill you for implying that!” 

“Uh, dude, you do realize you’ve both grown up, right? And I don’t just mean like physically. Kurt can handle a joke about wanking.” 

Blaine realized that Sam was probably right about one thing...he and Kurt had both grown up a lot in the last few years. “You think maybe he just wanted confirmation it was me in the pictures?” 

“Blaine, I think if he just wanted to know who the model was, he could have gone online and checked, or called the magazine or something,” Sam reasoned. “He wouldn’t have actually tried to talk to you unless he wanted to.” 

“Why would he, though?” Blaine asked. “We haven’t talked since _Grease_ , remember? The last thing I heard him say was ‘it was a mistake to come back.’ I don’t know if he’s ever even forgiven me for what I did.” 

“Water under the bridge, dude! Of course he has. He told me himself.” 

“When?” 

Sam leaned back and turned somber. “It was about a year after Finn died; we had the potluck one night and realized it was also the anniversary of the New Directions memorial. We started talking about things... regrets, things we wished we could do over. And Kurt told us his biggest regret was shutting you out.” 

“But, he had chances to talk to me after.” 

“Yeah, but he was still hurt. Not seeing you for months at a time and then suddenly seeing you again, he couldn’t deal. And the circumstances were wrong. The wedding just reminded him of what he lost, and...well, the last time his brother had just died. He was feeling too many things at once.” Sam took a sip of his drink. “But that night at dinner, he said if he could go back he’d try to talk to you, ask you why? And he would probably come to the same conclusion. That you guys were too young and foolish and you were just kids.” 

Blaine swallowed. “Did he say anything else?” 

“Just that he hoped you were happy, wherever you were. Even if you guys couldn’t be together, he just wanted you to have that.” 

Blaine sighed and smiled, and glanced at his phone again. 

“Dude.” 

“What?” 

“We’ve got all weekend. Go see him.” 

“I just can’t _go see him._ I still don’t know what he wants!” 

“Fine, then text him back and _then_ go see him. Look, I’m gonna go check out some Lego-stacking contest they got going on over on the High Line, but I’ll catch you later, alright?” 

“Yeah...yeah, go ahead.” As Sam walked away, Blaine called out, “And don’t think I forgot you ducked _my_ question about Mercedes!” 

Sam flipped him the bird without looking back. Blaine picked up his phone and began a text to Kurt. 

 _***_  

Kurt had been a nervous wreck for the last hour. _Blaine was in New York_ . He was in New York, right now; the last time they spoke was _horrible_ , the last time they saw each other in person he was grieving, and the last time he saw him _period_ he had jerked off to his image in a bubble bath. 

Blaine wanted to talk, and Kurt found he really wanted to talk to him, too. Not just about the pictures (though he was really curious about that), but about where his life was now. He had forgiven him a long time ago. Did Blaine know that? Did it matter? Was he happy? If he was in New York there must have been a good reason to travel all the way across the country. Maybe he had an audition. Or he was visiting someone. Or he was coming to do a photo shoot. Which made him think of _that_ photo shoot. His insides stirred. Maybe he had time... 

His phone pinged with a text message before he could reach the fly on his pants. 

 _B: “Okay, I can talk. Sam just left.”_  

Of course, Blaine was in town to visit Sam. He knew they kept in touch, even though Sam tried not to talk too much about Blaine while Kurt was around; he supposed he was trying to be sensitive. 

 _K: “I should have known that’s who you were with. I mean, since you’re in New York.”_  

_B: “Who else would it have been?”_

_K: “I don’t know...it’s been a long time. I’m sure you have other friends here, in LA, other places. I guess I’m still reeling.”_  

_B: “From me being in town, or in your magazine?”_

Um, _both_?

_B: “Seriously though. I did that photoshoot a long time ago, like almost a year. I haven’t done THOSE kinds of pictures since. I only just remembered the issue had come out. Don’t get me wrong, it was fun, and I don’t have to worry about textbook fees ever again, but being a king of erotica? Not really for me.”_

Kurt typed a message in jest, and then went to backspace...but hit send instead:

_K: “Too bad because you’re a natural.”_

He face-planted into a throw pillow. Oh God _why_ did he send that? He had to recover…

_K: “Crap, never mind, just kidding! Ha ha, funny, right?”_

The three little dots were moving. He wanted to kill those little dots.

_B: “So you don’t think I’m terrible for doing it?”_

Oh God now Kurt felt bad. He thought hard before sending his next text.

_K: “No I don’t think you’re terrible. Actually, I’ll be honest, they were really hot.”_

_B: “Really? How hot?”_

Damn Kurt wished he could sense _tone_ over text messages. Was Blaine flirting or fishing for compliments? He could approach it a few ways. He could be blandly flattering: “You’ve obviously been working out! The new hair works for you!” He could just be honest and straightforward: “I drew a bath and jerked off in the bubbles thinking of you and then I felt bad about it.”

Or he could play with him and see where it went.

  
_K: “Why don’t you come by and I’ll show you?”_

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Blaine reconnect, and there is cheesecake involved.

After several train stops, one wrong transfer, and a last-minute bakery visit, Blaine was at the door to the loft, cheesecake in hand. He knew he hadn’t been at that door since the night of Callbacks, and thought the cheesecake would be better received than flowers. _Water under the bridge, that’s what Sam said_ , Blaine murmured to himself. He had no illusions of a romantic reunion after so many years; he was just glad Kurt was speaking to him again. He knocked on the door.

“Coming!” The door slid open, and there he was. Kurt had grown...he was broader in the shoulders and chest, and his arms practically burst from the tight sleeves of his t-shirt. His facial features were sharper, too, but he had the same piercing blue eyes, the same toothy smile, the same little wrinkle in his brow when his face scrunched.

“Hi, Blaine.”

“Hi yourself,” Blaine said, going in for a hug and shifting around until the cake was out of the way. “Um, I brought cheesecake. It’s turtle flavor...I thought about flowers, but it didn’t seem right.”

Kurt took the box, closed the loft door behind them, and walked to the kitchenette. “You have no idea...when people come through that door with plants it usually means bad news.” Kurt realized what he said and double-backed. “I don’t just mean you that one time, sorry. Did I tell you that before Dad told me about his cancer he showed up with a Christmas tree? Oh and that Brody creep showed up with a plant as a housewarming gift.”

“Yeah, what happened to that guy, anyway?”

Kurt opened the box, then started digging in a drawer for forks. “You mean Santana didn’t tell you? I just assumed she told everybody. Turned out the guy was a _gigolo_. I don’t just mean he slept around, I mean he was a high-end escort for money.”

“Oh,” Blaine fretted. “I, um, guess I assumed by your texts you didn’t have a problem with that sort of thing.”

Kurt passed Blaine a plate with a slice of cheesecake and a fork. “I don’t have issues with sex work, I mean I _used_ to but those were some old Ohio hang-ups of mine. But when you’re fucking strangers for cash AND dating my best friend AND lying about it? That’s when you cross me. No, Blaine that has absolutely _nothing_ to do with what you do.”

“ _Did_ ...what I _did_ ,” Blaine defended, as they went to the sofa with their desserts.

“Hey, you know I wouldn’t care if you still did, right? I mean, I _would_ , but only if you weren’t happy doing it.”

“Sam told me you said something like that. That you just hoped I was happy.”

“And are you?”

Blaine made a thoughtful sound around the forkful of cheesecake he had just put in his mouth. He swallowed before saying, “Yeah, I mean I guess so? I have friends, classes are going well, and Cooper’s gotten less annoying.”

“That just sounds like ‘content.’ I meant are you actually happy?”

“I think there’s always an opportunity to be happier, if that’s what you mean. I’m still finding my way, but I have time. Speaking of happy, I won’t be until you actually take a bite of this cheesecake I brought. You’re missing out.”

“Oh, gosh, sorry I didn’t even realize!” Kurt took a bite, and his face registered an expression of rhapsody as the flavor traveled from his tongue to his brain. “Oh my God that’s almost as good as sex.”

“Almost?” Blaine joked. “Wow.”

“Hey, good cheesecake can be found most places in New York, unlike good sex. Speaking of,” Kurt said as he brought another forkful to his mouth, “This, um, erotic layout of yours. I want the whole story. And don’t leave anything out.”

Blaine told Kurt every detail. From his body transformation, to Derek, to freezing up at the shoot. And (he figured, _in for a penny, in for a pound_ ), he told Kurt about how he got into the headspace he needed. As he recounted the fantasy world he had built in his mind that day, he felt a warm stirring in his groin, realizing the Kurt now in front of him was very close to the grown fantasy he had manifested...and staring at him hungrily.

“So...in all those pictures. While you were taking them, and you were... _posing_ ,” he said, “you were thinking of me?”

“Yeah,” Blaine stuttered, and when did Kurt get that close?

“Can...can I confess something?”

Blaine’s mind swirled in anticipation. “Sure, Kurt...I think you can tell me anything right now.”

“Those pictures? When I got to the last one, with you about to taste your cum on your fingers? I, uh...ran my own bubble bath.”

“You did?” Blaine was almost fully hard now.

“Yeah, I did...and I took one of my waterproof toys, and I imagined you, and I never came so hard in my life.”

“Really.” Blaine felt Kurt's hand take his own, and place it on Kurt’s inseam, which was filled with his solid cock.

“Yeah, really.” Kurt licked his lips. “Um, you have some caramel, on your…”

“Where?” Blaine asked, before Kurt leaned in and licked it off the corner of his mouth.

Blaine turned just so and met Kurt’s lips, and suddenly the ember that had been simmering between them combusted like a backdraft.  Kurt squeaked in surprise at Blaine’s surety, then moaned as his tongue licked inside. They kissed each other breathless, their hands exploring familiar yet changed topography. Kurt didn’t just look different, he _felt_ different. His muscles were firm, certainly from the hours spent on choreography, dance, stage combat... _other things_.

Kurt could say the same thing...the abdominals he had seen in the photo spread were nothing compared to _feeling_ them, the way they rippled as he reached under Blaine’s shirt to touch. As Blaine fiddled with the fly of his pants he begged, “Oh, _please_.”

Blaine opened up his jeans effortlessly. “So how did you imagine me?” he said.

“Imagined you, what?” Kurt said as they grinded against each other on the sofa.

“You know, when you masturbated to me,” he purred. “I know you didn’t just take it into the tub. How did you see me?” He licked Kurt’s cheek. “What did I do?”

”You had your hands on me,” Kurt grunted. “Unh, your hands wrapped around my cock.”

Blaine reached into Kurt’s unbuttoned pants and found his cock hot and straining; when he curled his fingers around it, Kurt jumped and moaned. “Mmm, what else?”

“You kissed that spot on my neck. The one you discovered our first summer together, remember? Oh _God,_ yes just like that...you were whispering absolutely filthy things in my ear.” Blaine rubbed his khaki-clad bulge against Kurt’s thigh as he spit into his hand to ease the stroke on Kurt’s cock.

“So, you have all this experience,” Blaine rasped, “all these years, and you just imagined a handjob?”

Kurt jolted after a particularly skillful twist at the head. “I didn’t always have a high end prostate stimulator.”

“Fuck,” Blaine huffed. “So, do you want that?”

“No,” Kurt growled, grabbing the nape of Blaine’s neck and pulling the hairs there. “I want to take that gorgeous cock of yours, and I want to fuck myself on it. I want you to stuff me full.”

You didn’t have to tell Blaine twice. He stood up, pulling Kurt up with him by the hand, and Kurt led them to his curtained-off bedroom. Kurt stripped Blaine’s shirt off over his head, and Blaine did the same. Once they had each other’s pants off and were completely naked, they stood back for a moment.

“Wow,” Kurt exhaled, seeing his _Blue_ fantasy come alive. “You’re real.”

“I can say the same,” Blaine said, his eyes crawling over Kurt’s body. “Jesus, _Kurt_.”

There was all the time in the world to look, but now they wanted to touch. Kurt reached into the nightstand and tossed condoms and lube onto the bed, before laying on his back. He immediately grabbed the backs of his knees and spread himself open for Blaine.

Blaine squeezed a generous amount of lube into his hand and warmed it up. He pressed one of Kurt’s knees back while reaching down to circle his hole with a slick index finger. Kurt pressed his head back into the pillow while biting his lip as he pushed his hips toward Blaine, beseeching him to shove it in. Blaine stroked and slipped, catching Kurt’s rim with each pass, until he started to push in and out, going deeper and deeper. Kurt rocked himself onto Blaine’s finger greedily and mewled for more; Blaine added another and Kurt hissed at the delightful burn; as he shifted, he opened up beautifully.

“More?” Blaine asked. Kurt just nodded and grunted, and Blaine continued the slow build, adding another finger, then inching in and out, twisting them to and fro; after he was four fingers deep for a moment, Kurt was sobbing.

“Wow, you’re greedy for it, huh?” he drawled. “Want me to stuff you full, you said?”

“Fuck, yes,” Kurt said, whimpering at the emptiness when Blaine pulled his fingers out. He sat up and crawled on his knees, then pushed Blaine onto his back. “Like this. I want to ride you...want you to watch.”

Blaine tore the condom from its wrapper and rolled it on, then covered his cock in lube and wiped the excess on the sheets. Kurt came to straddle Blaine’s hips, then gently lowered himself onto his dick. Blaine was glad Kurt wanted him to watch because he couldn’t think of anything hotter than watching Kurt’s hole open up for him and swallow him; his cock disappeared into that tight heat, inch by inch, until he felt Kurt’s entire weight resting against his thighs. Then Kurt began to shift and rock, making tiny circles with his hips. He threw his head back and Blaine marveled at his strong chest muscles, his smooth stomach, and the tendons in his neck pulling and stretching. Blaine bent his legs and planted his feet on the bed and began to thrust up into Kurt; the angle must have worked because Kurt yelped and then sighed. His moans grew more musical as he reached for his cock and tugged.

Blaine bent up and took Kurt’s cock in his hand and they jerked in tandem while Kurt’s movements began to stutter. “Fuck I’m gonna cum,” Kurt shouted, bouncing on Blaine’s cock as he hammered upwards into him, until he howled with release. He came in long spurts all over his and Blaine’s fists and stomachs, seemingly without end until his cock was rubbed dry. He stayed pressed against Blaine, keeping him inside while he rocked and caught his breath.

Before Blaine could wipe his hands off, Kurt took his wrist and raised Blaine’s hand to his mouth. “One more thing,” Kurt gasped, “in my fantasy.” He took Blaine’s thumb and put it in his mouth, sucking and licking and twirling his tongue around it as he tasted himself.

“Fuck, Kurt!” Blaine cried out. He bucked unevenly as his orgasm barreled through him, dark and light exploding behind his eyelids. When the blood began to return to his brain and extremities and the aftershocks slowed, Kurt gently rose up off of him. Blaine removed the condom, then Kurt cleaned them up with tissues. Kurt tossed both in the general direction of the garbage, pulled the sheet up over their naked spent bodies, and they both fell sound asleep, exhausted but satisfied.

***

When Kurt woke up about an hour later, it was to Blaine brushing his fingers against his shoulder. “Hmmm...hey, you.”

“What does ‘It’s Got Bette Midler’ even _mean_?”

Kurt giggled. “Honestly I don’t even remember now.” He turned over to face Blaine. “The original was supposed to say ‘It Gets Better.’ I got it a month after Finn died; Rachel and I had both just been floating, and needed something to snap us out of it.”

“So why doesn’t it actually _say_ ‘It Gets Better?’”

“Because when you combine Limoncello with trying to read script fonts you get ‘IT’S GET BETTER.’ The Bette Midler was the tattoo artist’s way to fix it. He even comped me a tongue piercing...but I had to take it out. I couldn’t sing with it and I chipped a molar.”

“Wow. A tongue ring.” Blaine waggled his eyebrows knowingly. “Feel like I missed out.”

“Well, Adam seemed to enjoy it,” Kurt said.

Blaine was surprised by how _not_ bothered he was by that statement. Or by the entire situation, of he and Kurt just laying on their sides, facing each other, naked after incredible sex moments before, talking about _other_ guys they had sex with. “So, Adam, was he the blonde guy?”

“Yeah, the _British_ blonde guy.”

“Ooh, did he have the accent?”

“Of course.”

“Nice.” Blaine wriggled back against his pillow. “Tell me more.”

“Really?” Blaine nodded. So okay they were doing this. “Let’s see…there was this one guy I hooked up with from my stage fighting class, and a swing player in _Funny Girl_ I met through Rachel. One of the waiters at the Spotlight Diner, a guy at Vogue I dated for maybe a month? I think the only other major one was Elliot. Kinda looked like the guy from that one season of Idol that came in second, the one who got ripped off?”

“Adam Lambert? _Hot_. And I don’t know, I think either one of them deserved to win.”

“That’s your opinion and it’s wrong,” Kurt huffed. “And Elliot got me that subscription to _Blue_ in the first place, so we should be thanking him.”

“We should.”

“What about you? Any hot California guys to brag about?”

“Not many. There was this trainer, a guy on the rugby team. Really the only significant one was Derek.”

“The photographer? Okay so that’s _two_ floral arrangements we owe our exes. What was he like?”

“Okay, you know the guy that played Jefferson in _Hamilton_? The original one.”

“Ooooh, yummy. I approve.”

“He was sweet, and hot, and we’re still friends, but yeah.” Blaine paused. “There is one other, but I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

“Try me.”

“Um…” Blaine buried his face in his pillow. “It was Sebastian.”

 _“Smythe?_ God, I _knew_ that was going to happen, I knew that little weasel would get in your pants eventually.” Kurt noticed Blaine had started laughing. “What?”

Blaine smirked. “Would you feel better if I said it was _awful_?”

 _“Nooooo._ And of course it was. Tell me all about it.”

“Yep. Guy talks a good game but when it came down to the deed? I mean don’t get me wrong, I came, but it was just,” Blaine shrugged, “ _meh_.”

Kurt pressed his lips together, trying not to lose it.

“And I’m just gonna say it, but someone as tall as Seb? You’d think he’d be well-hung. Nope. I didn’t even get to return the favor. He already came in his pants - like a flash.”

Kurt couldn’t hold it in anymore, and burst out laughing. “Are you sure he wasn’t a ‘grower-not-a-show-er’?” he cackled.

Blaine was laughing right with him. “Oh my God, are you defending Sebastian Smythe’s dick size?”

 _“No,”_ Kurt bellowed, as they both were clutching their stomachs in amusement. Suddenly, they both heard the loft door slide open.

“Is that Rachel?”

“Kurt, I’m home! Ugh, one of the dancers fell off the stage and there was a whole commotion and I think he broke his leg in two places, so Rupert cancelled the rest of rehearsal…” Rachel’s voice was coming closer to the curtain...

Kurt whispered, “Crap I didn’t think she’d be home this early!” He shouted, “Rachel don’t come it yet I’m not decent!”

“Oh please, Kurt we’ve lived together for three years I’ve seen it _all_ by now…” she pulled back the curtain just as Kurt and Blaine managed to cover themselves back up with the sheets. “ _Blaine!_  Oh my God you’re here!” Not even noticing (or caring) for their state of undress she jumped onto the bed and immediately embraced Blaine in a hug. “You’re here in New York! Oh my goodness I’ve missed you! What are you doing here, I thought you were at UCLA? Oh never mind we have so much to catch up on! How long are you here for? You should come to potluck if you’re staying through Monday…”

“Rach?” Kurt pulled her out of her rambling, and only then did she notice.

“Oh. _Oh!_ Oh my God are you two back together? Cause if you are that’s wonderful, but if you aren’t, well I mean that’s okay too, I mean sex can be very healthy outside of a relationship…”

“RACHEL!” Kurt finally shouted.

“What?”

“Can you, I don’t know, at least let us get dressed?”

“Oh, of course, sorry! I’ll let you two, um, get _situated,"_  she said with a wink. She got up off the bed and left...then stuck her head back in the curtain. “And when you’re done I want _details,_  you two.”

Blaine smiled. “Ah, I missed her.”

“You can have her if you want...take her back to California with you,” Kurt said. It suddenly got quiet as they remembered they didn’t actually live in the same place.

“Yeah. California. Where I live. Clear across the country,” Blaine said, picking at a thread in the sheet pooled at his waist.

Kurt touched Blaine’s hand to stop his fidgeting. “Blaine...this was fun. And seeing you, reconnecting, this was more than great. But we’re thousands of miles apart, _literally_. I don’t know if it can be more…”

“Do you _want_ it to be more?”

“I want it to be... _something_ ? Maybe not a get back together. Because _that_ Kurt and _that_ Blaine are long gone. But maybe a do-over? I don’t want this to be some kind of farewell fuck. But I don’t want to tie you down to something either.” Kurt paused, obviously thinking.  “What about this...we’ll text and skype and comment on each other’s Facebooks, but no exclusivity, no obligation, and we’ll just see how it goes. Sound good?”

“I can do that,” Blaine nods. “So...time to get dressed and interrogated? Not in that order of course.”

“Um, _yes_ , in that order,” Kurt chided. “And I want to get to the rest of that cheesecake you brought before Rachel does.”

Just then they heard a theatrical gasp from the other side of the curtain. “BLAINE ANDERSON OH MY GOD IS THIS _YOU?!?!_ ”

Blaine blushed as Kurt demurred, “I...should have put the magazine away, huh?”

***

SIX MONTHS LATER

“Blaine? Cooper? Are either of you here?”

Kurt had scored an internship that put him in Los Angeles for the entire summer. He and Blaine had made good on their promise to stay connected without any strings; they both dated other people while maintaining a cross-country friendship, but when they were in the same city it was just the two of them. He was staying at Blaine and Cooper’s place; Cooper was in and out on auditions, and Blaine was taking summer classes. Kurt had just come in from his internship orientation.

“In here, Kurt.” He heard Blaine’s voice coming from upstairs.

Kurt followed Blaine’s voice up the stairs and down the hallway. “Where?”

“In the bathroom. Don’t knock; just come in.”

Kurt opened the bathroom door to a sight. The room was bathed in candlelight, which reflected off the millions and millions of bubbles that filled the tub and spilled onto the floor. “What in the world…”

“Surprise,” Blaine suddenly popped up, out of the foam. Completely naked, the suds clung to his curls and chest, dripped down his torso, and barely floated around his cock, which was already half hard.

Kurt laughed. “Blaine, what is this?”

“It’s your ‘Welcome to L.A.’ Now come on, get undressed...unless you want me to pull you in right now?” Blaine came toward Kurt and grabbed him by the waist.

“Blaine Anderson, don’t you dare, _this is a Vivienne Westwood original!”_

  
_*The End*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading, kudosing, and commenting! Before I even hit the end of his baby, it became my most commented-on fic EVER, so blessings on your cow! A special thanks to notarelationship (slayediest) for being a great beta through this, and the original picture...fella I don't know who you are, but you can add "muse" to your resume!


End file.
